


Common Tongue

by GalaxyAqua



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, M/M, Making Out, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, probably pwp but whatever, they talk about vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-20 09:15:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22015075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyAqua/pseuds/GalaxyAqua
Summary: “Well then, if implications are effective as you say, then perhaps,” Shinguuji continues, voice sly. “If I were to expose my neck and offer it to you, that would be invitation enough?”“You’re into vampires, aren’t you,” Amami teases, biting the space just beneath his ear. A fun little gesture. Tangentially relevant. Tangentially. Shinguuji would be proud of him for adding that to his vocabulary. Then probably toss in a few more words he knows Amami will forget to look up in the dictionary. Smart bastard.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Shinguji Korekiyo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 150





	Common Tongue

Amami kisses him featherlight, lips barely brushing over the fabric of his mask and Shinguuji tugs it down without hesitation, catching his lips with his own. 

He smiles into the kiss, hands trailing playfully down his sides and Shinguuji holds him close by the small of his back, fingers twisting in his shirt. Amami pins him to the nearest wall, pressing their bodies flush together, leaving one hand on his hip, the other fluttering up to his neck — a bared, delicate thing — and he can feel his pulse beneath his skin. 

“Hey.” He greets belatedly, finally acknowledging the fact that he had just stepped through the entryway after returning from therapy. The whole running in and kissing thing is new to his long list of impulses, but it isn’t uncommon that he acts before thinking, isn’t uncommon that he’s flooded with affection the moment he comes home, maybe for the sole reason that this _is_ home. This is home. “I’m back.”

Shinguuji mirrors the way he touches, hand on hip and the other on his neck, thumb tracing the curve of Amami’s collarbone. His eyes trail over him, the set of his jaw, his shoulders, then back up to his face, intent. 

He’s studying him. Shinguuji does that. “So it seems you are. I must say… I hardly noticed.”

“Cold,” Amami says, accustomed to this way of pushing and pulling between them. Something comfortable. Something familiar. “I don’t even get a ‘welcome back’?”

“That would rely on you being welcome,” and a smirk touches Shinguuji’s lips then, his action to pull Amami closer betraying his words. He kisses him on the cheek, the bridge of his nose, and then his mouth. “I don’t seem to recall inviting you in.”

“I am wounded and appalled that I have not been invited when I’m such a nice guy,” Amami replies, effortlessly playing into the conversation, tucking Shinguuji’s hair behind his ear. “That’s okay, though. I’ve invited myself in anyway.”

“Fortunate that you are no vampire, then, nice guy that you are,” he says rather smugly, not faltering even when Amami lands kisses along his jawline, not faltering at the kisses trailing down the expanse of his neck. “Or you would have been stopped at the door.”

“You say that like you’re trying to keep me out,” Amami murmurs against his jugular. 

“I would never,” Shinguuji says, hand curling casually around his hip, tracing circles on his back. “I am fascinated by the concept of it, and simply that. In terms of being a vampire… would a verbal invitation be a necessity or would the implications of being welcome be enough to permit your entry? It’s interesting to me. What do you think? I’d like to hear your opinion.”

He pulls back thoughtfully to consider this. 

He doesn’t look Shinguuji in the eye — he knows the way he’s being looked at. Like his opinion matters. Like he matters. Sometimes he doesn’t know how to deal with that. 

“Implied, maybe? Seems easier. Otherwise, we’d have a lot more vampire stories with them sulking outside doors, which would be adorable but kinda ruins the whole vibe they’ve got goin’ on. Of course, I’m just guessing.”

“Well then, if implications are effective as you say, then perhaps,” Shinguuji continues, voice sly. “If I were to expose my neck and offer it to you, that would be invitation enough?”

“You’re into vampires, aren’t you,” Amami teases, biting the space just beneath his ear. A fun little gesture. Tangentially relevant. Tangentially. Shinguuji would be proud of him for adding that to his vocabulary. Then probably toss in a few more words he knows Amami will forget to look up in the dictionary. Smart bastard.

“Was it not obvious?” Shinguuji tilts his head back, and it falls against the wall as Amami continues to lavish his neck with attention. He offers a small hum to indicate that he’s still listening. “Though I must say, there is currently no credibility to the alleged origin of this particular myth of required invitation, only that it may have preceded the popularity of the tale of Dracula itself. A well discussed theory is that this particular myth originated alongside the concept that demonic possession was allowed only after presented with invitation, though— Rantaro,” his gaze flickers downwards, acutely aware of the fingers playing idly with the zipper of his pants. “What are you doing?”

“So you’re saying vampires and demons are related?” 

“I— that’s not— don’t avoid the—” Seeming torn between wanting to pursue his line of questioning and wanting to continue his impassioned tirade on vampires, he halts, before making the decision Amami had already expected, and adored instigating. “Well, I suppose they are not related in the literal sense… but they have been considered synonymous in the past. The act of drinking blood and eating flesh has been associated with devils, demons and other dark revenants in many cultures from times of old but unlike such revenants, vampires often lie on a more human spectrum of morality, of course, having been turned from their— Rantaro.”

Amami grins up at him. “What?”

“Why are you on the floor?”

“I’m on my knees,” he corrects, and he pretends his hand isn’t where it is because he really can’t help but remark, “And I’m actually kinda wondering if you’re hard because I kissed you or because you got to talk about vampires. You can be honest.”

A wave of heat floods into Shinguuji’s complexion, tinging it pink, the directness of the statement doing nothing to help the burn of arousal it seems he had been explicitly ignoring until Amami had brought it up. 

“I am not answering that.”

“So, the vampires, then,” Amami doesn’t relent with the teasing, hands resting on Shinguuji’s thighs. “Maybe I’ll have to change that. Can I suck you off?”

The directness, again, he knows Shinguuji hates it and loves it and hates it again for the way it makes him feel — they’re both reserved, in the sense that they prefer to be equally unknowable — but Amami has just found these opportunities far too good to pass up. 

He’ll be the direct one, if he has to be. 

Write his own personality, instead of having it force fed to him by _Danganronpa_ again and again. If anything, at least he thinks the reactions he gets can be pretty funny. 

“I mean,” Shinguuji is careful not to choke on the words. Careful not to make more of a mess of himself. Ever since the simulation ended, he had always been so very careful. “You certainly can. It is within your ability to do so, I believe. Were you asking to?”

Amami groans. 

“Trust you to focus on the semantics. _May_ I, then?”

“It is always better to make your points explicitly clear to avoid misconstruing one’s intentions,” he replies, cupping a hand over his mouth to shield the majority of his expression which is such a shame because he looks so embarrassed and it’s kind of really cute. “You may. Of course, but only if you want to.”

Amami takes the pull of the zipper between his teeth instead of replying, dragging it down, hands still firm on his thighs. There are many easier ways to be doing this but Amami had an impulse and now he’s chasing it. 

Shinguuji’s eyes are on him as he hits the bottom stop of the zip and pops off of it, a thin trail of saliva following as he does. He wipes it with his wrist, before leaning in again, running his tongue over the teeth of the zipper and over the erection in his underwear. He likes the way the zip feels but doesn’t care much for the metallic taste, so he flicks his tongue against it and then presses a little harder because he can. 

“Must you insist on making this so dramatic?” Shinguuji mutters, back arching ever so subtly against the wall, his hands now flat against it for support. 

Amami only laughs, knows that’s a sign he’s going too slow, but he can’t help it. He’s a sensory person, everything _feels_ some kind of way. 

He’s also a pleaser though, so he continues to mouth him through the fabric, slipping his hands beneath the tight space between his skin and his jeans, pulling the garment off slowly. He runs his hands over the scars, such pretty marks on his pretty legs, and lifts his ankles to free him from the constraints of his clothing, tossing the pants aside as his teeth skim the dip of his hipbones, scraping him tenderly above the hemline. 

“As— as I was saying,” Shinguuji begins, starting to sound a little lightheaded, but not seeming to know how else to react. Amami doesn’t mind. He’s well-accustomed to the things that bring them both comfort, and Shinguuji’s prattling is one of them, if only for its consistency. “More, er, human than most revenants. Vampires. That is. Assumed to have at least lived a human childhood, or raised with human society which shaped their— their morals, which is why the core of their torment lies in— well, in becoming a predator, ah, for what was once their own kind.”

“Yeah? Sounds pretty sad to me.”

Amami’s fingers hook into the sides of his panties, taking his time removing them, planting a kiss on the strain of his arousal, stiff against his touch. 

“It is a tragedy,” Shinguuji whispers, shuddering. “But a well worn one. There is so much death surrounding vampires. Be-becoming an obligate killer to- ah, to survive. Hurting people because you- you have no choice.”

Amami knows what he’s talking about, and it’s not just about vampires anymore. 

He wants that feeling to wash away. 

He brushes his lips against the head of his erection again before he takes it into his mouth, sucking so gently, drawing it out. Bit by precious bit. 

Shinguuji has stopped talking. 

Amami can feel his every reaction beneath him. The way his breath hitches, the way his fingers curl into fists, the tentative way his hands hover, it’s all so gratifying. 

His to cherish, his to pleasure. 

Gratifying. 

He slides his tongue along his length, feeling him twitch the slightest bit, gasp and snap forward the slightest bit, still holding himself back — sometimes, it takes a little more coaxing, a little more encouragement that everything is fine. 

Shinguuji has always had a hard time permitting himself to just _be_ , especially in these types of situations where he’s at the mercy of Amami’s mouth.

He’s always thinking he wants more than he’s allowed to. Always afraid of demanding too much, and Amami gets it, but he wouldn’t really mind being handled more roughly. There’s such reverence to it, though, that comes with being so carefully considered, that he can hardly complain. 

Shinguuji squirms when he takes him in deeper, and when Amami’s touch flutters lovingly down his legs, he can feel his knees weakening, buckling under the sheer weight of that love. 

Amami takes ahold of his hips, slides off his dick, manoeuvres him away from the wall. Slips his hands beneath his thighs, lifts his trembling body into his arms. Shinguuji clings to him and hides his face in his shoulder as he carries him towards the bed instead, where he gently guides him down to sit and Shinguuji obediently allows it. 

“You okay?” He asks softly. “Do you want to stop?”

Shinguuji shakes his head, nervously avoiding his gaze. “No. No. I just. I don’t know. You are so gentle with me. Sometimes I don’t know how to deal with gentle. Sometimes it’s a lot.”

His brows furrow in concern. “Should I be worried?”

“You’re already worried,” Shinguuji points out, shooting him a light, embarrassed smile as he presses a slender finger against the crease in Amami’s forehead. “You don’t have to be, you know. I’m just processing.”

“I get that.” Amami says, scrunching his nose at the poke. “Sometimes it takes a moment, yeah?”

He nods, amused by Amami’s reaction and pokes him again, this time in the cheek. “I’m okay now. Thank you for caring.” 

“It’s what I do,” Amami replies. “Lie down.”

Shinguuji does, sinking into the soft of the sheets, and Amami clambers halfway on top of him, spreading his thighs apart. 

“Let me know if it gets too much,” Amami tells him before he leans in again, resting Shinguuji’s legs around his head, where they cross over at the ankles, hooking his head forward. 

Splayed out on the mattress, it’s easier to swallow more of him, Amami’s mouth meeting its destination again, open and compliant and so very content to please — he’s not interested in drawing it out slowly anymore, moving in faster bobs of his head, hands pushing beneath Shinguuji and using his hips as leverage to push him further into his mouth. 

Shinguuji groans softly, cupping his own mouth as he tries to keep the sounds in, spine curving with the effort. Curving like art. 

It stirs a pleasant warmth through Amami, and as he runs his tongue along the underside of his dick, he doesn’t resist the urge to grind into the mattress as well, relieving some of the pressure of his own arousal. 

“You’re beautiful,” Shinguuji murmurs, making it evident that he’s watching. “So very beautiful, you know that?”

As he’s often to, Amami breathes out a laugh, about as much as he can manage with his mouth fully occupied, a soft and breathless sound which vibrates through his throat — and he’s sure Shinguuji feels it. Rewards his little gasp with the pull of his tongue, dragging him deeper into his mouth and sucking hard. 

Shinguuji’s fingers twist in his hair, first tight in coiled fists, tugging, before softening. Apologetic. 

Amami tries to reassure him it’s fine, nudging his head lightly against his palms, and is satisfied when Shinguuji runs a delicate hand through his hair as though he understands. 

Ever so kindly, his hands trail down to caress Amami’s cheeks and Amami takes hold of them then, pinning his wrists down to the bed. He’s conscious of the way they fall, feeling Shinguuji’s wrists tremble beneath his grip, unable to grasp anything but air. 

“Rantaro,” he hears, a quiet and desperate plea. 

“Mhm?” He replies, taking pleasure in the way Shinguuji’s hips stutter, his whole body a shaking mess around him. He laces their fingers together, and he can hear the intake of breath that follows — that pretty little gasp, then the gentle whisper of his name, over and over. 

He glances up at him through his eyelashes, kisses the tip of his dick and pulls away to say, “If you’re gonna keep calling my name like that, I’m gonna think you want something. You good?”

“I just,” Shinguuji cuts himself off when Amami brushes his lips against his thigh, trembling with the weightlessness of it. “Goodness, Rantaro. Just. How am I supposed to react to this?”

“You don’t like it?”

“I do, of course I—” his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip as he bites back the sound threatening to escape. Amami smiles. It takes a moment for him to release it, his voice re-emerging in a low, husky murmur. “You are so… good to me. Nobody has ever been… no, what I mean to say is, I don’t. Necessarily understand. Why are you being so good to me?”

“I just wanna treat you well,” he says, resting his cheek against his leg. His hands slowly slide down his forearms, then down his chest. He’s delighted to feel him shiver under him, under the hands that trace the shape of a heart into the dip of his waist. “Nothing more to it, beautiful.”

“Calling me beautiful just like that…” There’s the shadow of a laugh that graces Shinguuji’s voice, such a gorgeous and fleeting thing. “You’re the one who’s beautiful. I— I don’t know how to survive you, you know. It’s so overwhelming. I hardly deserve it. You are always so good to me.”

“I want to be.” He whispers. 

He takes his cock in his mouth again, pressing his tongue against the slit. Licks the precum, licks the head. He’s done talking. He wants Shinguuji to forget about his doubts, forget about how undeserving he feels because it just keeps breaking his heart. 

He sinks down on him, palm firm on his hips to keep him from bucking upwards, and swallows around him. His nails dig into the ridge of his hips to give him leverage as he moves his head up and down, sucking hard, before he’s rewarded with a violent jerk into his mouth, an uncontrollable reflex that his hand can’t hold down. 

Shinguuji flusters, quickly muffling himself with his hands, but finding it ineffective, he grasps onto the bed sheets instead. He’s still vehement not to cry out, writhing with his teeth sealing his mouth shut and Amami respects that, but steadily quickens his pace. 

A particularly fluid motion coaxes a soft mewl from Shinguuji’s mouth, and he flushes red, clearly embarrassed to have let that one slip. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he’s in the midst of apologizing, despite the fact it stirred an immense feeling of want in Amami’s stomach, the very recollection of the sound making him rut against the mattress, a desperate, filthy noise leaving his throat.

Shinguuji quiets after that, still in all his admiration, relaxing. Amami slows, glancing up at him to make sure he’s okay, before resuming pace. 

His hand seeks Amami’s, slipping beneath the palm resting on his hip, and holds it, so very tenderly. 

Such a sweet gesture, Amami thinks, and squeezes his hand comfortingly as he bobs his head, the sheen of tears springing into his eyes as he forces the rest of it in, until he’s gotten the full length in his mouth. 

Shinguuji tenses, doesn’t make a single sound when he hits the back of his throat — holds it in, holds it back, keeping his mouth shut as he’s overcome with it, back arching, toes curling. 

“Close,” he whimpers. “I’m getting close.”

Amami raises his free hand, palm facing up — back when they had first started getting intimate, they had established a non-verbal gesture to ask if the other wanted to stop, and it comes to be useful in times like this, Amami thinks, when his speech is a little hard to manage. 

“N-no, don’t stop—” Shinguuji pleas, voice so very thin and weak. “I’m sorry. Don’t stop. _Please_ , don’t stop.”

Amami doesn’t stop, he keeps driving his cock into his mouth, and Shinguuji takes his other hand as well, holding it tight. He knows he’s crying now from the force of it, but he doesn’t stop, lost in the act of giving pleasure, lost in the act of giving. 

Shinguuji rides out his orgasm in the warm and wet of his mouth, they’ve had this discussion many times before and Amami is quick to reassure him that it’s okay, it’s okay, he squeezes his hands, _it’s okay_. 

It’s a beautiful, beautiful sight seeing him so unrestrained, hearing that desperate cry of his name, and feeling it, the shudder against his body, the breathlessness of his voice. 

He swallows again, around him, one last time before he pulls away. Some of it has spilled with the tears on his face, and he looks like a general wreck, he knows, but he wipes his mouth with his arm and takes a moment to catch his breath. 

Shinguuji’s breathing is evening out too, and he retracts his legs, freeing Amami from where he had been comfortably settled between them. He curls up, just a little bit, as if still processing. 

Amami thinks he’s really pretty. He wants to kiss him, but doesn’t move yet. Only watches the rise and fall of his chest, the gentle reminder that they are alive in this moment and alive together. 

He crawls over to lie next to him, and Shinguuji rolls over so they’re facing each other. He looks dazed, and Amami can’t resist giving him a little peck on the nose, to which he blinks confusedly, then returns the favor. Amami grins. 

Carefully, Shinguuji brushes the remainder of his tears from his face with trembling hands. Remarkably, his hands are cold again — always cold, but it’s a blessing to the heat of Amami’s face. He covers his hands with his own. 

“I’m sorry.” Shinguuji says. 

Amami kisses his hands. Amami kisses his face. 

He isn’t sure what he’s apologizing for, but there’s no need for any sort of apology when he’s more turned on than ever, and satisfied to have been able to blow him out of his mind. He lives to please, after all. 

So he just grins and shrugs, and his voice comes out kind of really hoarse but he doesn’t care. “Are you kidding me? Getting you off is some sort of holy.”

Shinguuji flushes despite himself. 

“The things you say…” He recovers quickly though, muttering, “Fortunate that you are no vampire, or I would have to rescind your invitation, effective immediately.”

“Careful with the vampire talk, you play a dangerous game.” Amami smirks and of course he has to wink at him. He knows Shinguuji thinks he’s ridiculous, but he still gets away with it every time. “Don’t wanna accidentally awaken something in you again. It’s okay. I don’t judge.”

“The way you speak of me makes me wonder how depraved you think I am. It isn’t like I am so easily aroused by words alone, and the subject of vampires no less,” he responds, a touch too quickly. “My fantasies, though numerous, don’t tend to spiral in that direction unless certain conditions are in place, such as feeling the urge to be bitten. But I suppose on that note, I often do want to be bitten, just not by vampires specifically. Different conditions. Then, perhaps.”

“You know you’re digging yourself a hole here, right? I didn’t ask about how horny you are, you just offered that information up yourself,” Amami teases, all in good nature. “But anyway, do you wanna use the bathroom to clean up? You can go. I kinda need to jerk it, so I’d like the privacy, if you’d be so kind.”

This time, it’s Shinguuji that smirks. His hands, no longer shaking, find purpose in trailing down tantalizingly slowly down Amami’s chest and slipping between his thighs. Amami is helpless to stop him, bucking into his hand with a soft groan, yelping when Shinguuji presses him down against the bed. 

It’s not like he didn’t expect it, but _god._

Well, if it’s gonna be like that, he’s not about to complain. 

“Actually?” Shinguuji purrs, eyes keen and lidded, thumb already hooking into the waistband of his pants. Smart _and_ horny bastard. He knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s not like Amami’s even capable of refusing him. Not here. Not now. Not like this. “I think I’ll invite myself to stay a little while longer. It’s only a matter of fairness, don’t you think?”

  
  



End file.
